


A Question of Taste

by Somn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Grooming (mentioned), M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Post-War, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somn/pseuds/Somn
Summary: Severus Snape comes to terms with his sexuality over the years, and comes to a fairly annoying conclusion. What, exactly, would be the opposite of a sapiosexual?
Relationships: Severus Snape/Gilderoy Lockhart (one-sided), Severus Snape/Harry Potter, Severus Snape/Lily Evans (very mild), Severus Snape/Mary Macdonald (mild), Severus Snape/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a crackfic that just kind of got away from me, so let's just call it humor and leave it at that. First chapter contains some mild - MILD - het. There's some slash here as well.

Lily Evans was Severus Snape's best friend in the entire world. Their friendship wasn't perfect - she did have a bit of a tendency to jump to the worst conclusions about him sometimes, even when it wasn't deserved (though sometimes it was) - but it was fulfilling and he absolutely adored her. Loved her, even.

She was incredibly smart, talented, powerful, kind, and beautiful - so beautiful. She was absolutely breathtaking. She smelled like fresh air and bluebells and sunshine. Her smile lit up a room. Conversations with her were more stimulating than with any of their other peers and even than some he'd had with professors. Everything about her fit what Severus thought should be his ideal. And yet…

He felt no attraction whatsoever. It wasn't for lack of trying. The summer between third and fourth year he really, really tried to convince himself he had a crush on her, and the next summer they'd experimented a bit with kissing and even made out once in the woods (though they didn't get very far before Petunia showed up). But while it felt pretty nice to kiss her and be allowed to put his hands under her shirt, it wasn't particularly exciting.

He confessed this to her about a week before they were due to return to Hogwarts for their fifth year. She didn't seem too put out about it, which felt strangely like being rejected even though he was, technically, the one doing the rejecting. 

"Maybe you're just queer," she shrugged offhandedly. His eyes went wide and his face went red. How could she say something like that so flippantly?

"I'm not…I'm not some shirt-lifter, Lils! What do you take me for?" he demanded, panic welling up within him. She just smiled at him with an expression that looked far too much like pity for his taste.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Sev. It's not as though it's something you could control if you were, right?" she replied. "I know a lot of people think it's bad, but it's just a question of taste, isn't it?"

Severus looked at her like she'd grown three heads. "I'm NOT, though. I know I'm not. And please don't repeat that again - the last thing I need is someone to hear you and have it get back to my dad." He looked around with a frown as though worried someone might overhear. "Besides, it's not like I don't- I mean- I do have some girlie mags, you know…"

Lily snorted out a laugh. "Sorry!" she rushed to soothe him as he turned back to glare at her. "Sorry, it's not that it's funny, I just wasn't expecting it." She smiled at him placatingly. "Sev, you're my best friend. I love you no matter what. Maybe that's all that's happening here. Maybe we're just too close to really see each other that way?"

"Maybe…" he replied quietly. 

It wasn't until he laid in bed that night that he realized she'd essentially told him she wasn't attracted to him, either. It didn't feel good, but it didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it should have.  
___

Mary Macdonald was unusually sweet for a Gryffindor, so much so that one could have mistaken her for a Hufflepuff in Severus's estimation. They weren't friends, but she was the only one of Lily's that was willing to tolerate him. She was rather pretty, Severus caught himself thinking one day. Curvy, had a nice smile - it was a pity she was dumb as a brick, though he'd learned early on not to make those kinds of observations around Lily when it came to her friends. Still, even if she would be lucky to make it into any NEWT classes (and even then only because Lily aggressively tutored her), she was attractive, and when she passed by his seat during Charms one day in November and he got a whiff of her perfume - something warm and sweet, like vanilla - he felt butterflies start in his stomach.

From then on, he started to pay just a bit more attention when they'd both spend time with Lily, making an extra effort to be a bit kinder. After about a month of this she seemed to notice the change and even started smiling at him a bit here and there. Lily also took notice, and after Severus dropped a particularly flattering (but absolutely insincere) comment about Mary's quick-wittedness in Charms a couple weeks before Christmas, he saw her shoot him a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

He wasn't sure if Lily had talked to Mary or not, but a week after that he found himself tucked away in a corner of the fourth floor with his tongue halfway down Mary's throat and her breasts pressed tightly against his chest. Yes, this was nice. This was way better than it was with Lily, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He was about to slide his hands from her waist downward when someone loudly cleared their throat from behind him. Mary jumped away from him like she'd been burned and Severus tried not to take offense as he spun around to see who had dared to interrupt him.

Mulciber stood there, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Wow, Snape. You really have a thing for these mudbloods, don't you?" he chuckled. Severus turned bright red. Avery stood off to the side, silently frowning at Mary. He heard her say something angrily behind him but it was too quiet to understand. She bolted off in the other direction, not even glancing back at Severus when he called after her.

"Let her go, mate," Mulciber stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off angrily. "Hey, hey, listen - it was only a joke. She'll cool off, don't worry about it." 

"Why did you even say anything?" Snape shot back with a glare. "Why didn't you leave it alone?"

Mulciber smirked at him knowingly. "Come on, Snape. We both know you can do better than that. It's fine to have a bit of fun, I guess, but no need to take it so seriously. Right, Avery?"

Snape turned his glare on Avery, but the other boy refused to meet his eyes, just grunting in what Snape assumed was agreement. 

He didn't bother to reply. He just turned his glare back to Mulciber before storming off to the Slytherin dorms.

___

Mary refused to talk to him again after that. Two weeks later, Mulciber cornered her. He told Severus he'd only been trying to apologize because he felt bad about ruining Severus's chances with her, but that she'd been so nasty with him when he'd barely said a word that he didn't have much choice but to play a little prank on her. It wasn't anything serious, he'd insisted. The magic was dark, but what was the big deal in making her spontaneously cream herself? It was only once and it wasn't like he'd touched her, and there certainly wasn't a corridor full of people the way she was saying - no more than perhaps two or three others who probably didn't even notice. It was completely harmless.

Lily, obviously, did not agree with this version of events at all. They'd had a massive row that turned into an argument about not only Mulciber and Avery, but her willingness to defend Potter and his friends even as she tore Severus's apart. She didn't seem to understand, despite all the evidence, that Potter was no better - arguably worse, in fact - than his housemates, and certainly paid no mind to the fact that they were literally the only friends he had besides her. After the argument took a turn and got onto the topic of Lupin and then moved to what he considered Potter's weird obsession with her, it was clear they were getting nowhere. Deciding it wasn't worth losing a best friend over, he'd let the matter drop. The wound that had formed between them, however, festered after that.  
___

Their friendship didn't survive the year. The following summer Severus found himself spending most of his time alone in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling and trying not to listen to his parents while they argued and his dad slammed things all over the house. After three weeks of unbearable boredom, he decided he'd had enough and started taking walks alone down along the river, away from the park where he'd first met Lily. He didn't think she'd actually turn up there considering they were practically grown now, but he didn't want to chance it. The end of their friendship and the loneliness that accompanied that loss had hit him hard, particularly because he couldn't ignore his fault in it.

It was during one of these walks in late July he happened upon a scruffy looking bloke, maybe three or four years older, trying to fish. Severus stared at him in disbelief. This part of the river ran downstream from the mill and was heavily polluted - no one fished there, and it wasn't even clear if any fish could even survive in those waters. Intrigued, Severus quietly approached, stopping a few feet away from the man and looking out at the water.

"Y'fish?" the man asked after several minutes of silence. Severus turned to him - he had short, unkempt dark brown hair tucked under a ball cap and a few days' worth of growth on his face. His eyes were a hazy blue and very friendly as he shot Severus a grin. Severus shook his head in reply.

"Didn't think you could fish here, with the mill runoff and all," he replied quietly. The man chuckled and turned his attention back to the water.

"No rules against it," he replied. Severus blinked at him. It wasn't a matter of whether it was allowed, he wanted to say, but of practicality. Surely he realized the pollution was a problem? Surely? He didn't say anything, though. A strange fluttering had begun in his stomach and he really didn't know what to make of it. The man was attractive in a sloppy kind of way, but then most people in this part of town weren't overly concerned with appearances. He was fit, too - his arms were massive and well toned, his shoulders and chest broad. If he had a job, it was almost certainly physical labor. Realizing he was staring, he flushed and turned his attention back to the river. The man beside him snorted.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked Severus. Severus swallowed hard. What did that have to do with anything?

"Sixteen," he replied quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. Why was he nervous? It was just some bloke by the river! He didn't even seem to be a particularly bright one, seeing as how he kept pulling up trash that was getting caught on his line instead of any actual fish, yet kept casting.

"I just turned nineteen," his new acquaintance replied. "Name's Iain." He reeled in his line, extracted what looked to be a piece of soggy cardboard, then cast it again with a huff.

"…Russ," Severus replied, falling back on the nickname his dad insisted he use around his mates from the pub.

"Well, Russ," Iain sighed, "I don't think the fish much care for me today."

Severus stared at him. The fish didn't much care for anyone, he wanted to say, because they were probably half-dead if they existed at all. The water was a brownish-grey color. Surely…surely that was obvious? 

He'd clearly been silent too long because Iain looked over at him and smirked. "You wanna go somewhere?"

And Severus, without really understanding why, absolutely did.  
___

"Somewhere" turned out to be just a bit farther downstream where the reeds grew tall and close together and it was almost impossible to see the bank of the river from the roadway. Iain was all hard muscles and sharp angles where Mary had been soft curves, and while Severus had needed to lean down for Mary he found himself grasping Iain's shoulders to compensate for the extra six centimeters he had on him. It wasn't long before Iain's hands slid down Severus's back to his cheeks to pull him flush to his body, and for the first time, Severus felt another man's erection pressed up against him. Before today he would have been certain that he'd be disgusted, but instead he felt his own cock - already halfway to mast - grow rock hard. Iain groaned into his mouth as he started rubbing against him and suddenly Severus wished he'd worn something significantly less restrictive than jeans.

"Hey Russ," Iain murmured, barely separating their lips, "have you ever had your cock sucked before?"

Severus swallowed hard. "No," he whispered, and Iain kissed him once more before dropping to his knees.  
___

Iain, it turned out, worked in a lumberyard just outside Kent. He was only staying a few weeks to help out his gran while his uncle was away on business. He and Severus spent most of his spare time together, sometimes out walking the riverbank and chatting (where Severus learned that while Iain absolutely was not the brightest bulb, he made up for it in good-natured earnestness), sometimes locked away in Iain's room exploring each other quite thoroughly. His gran, half blind and fully deaf, didn't recognize Severus from the neighborhood and was largely unaware of what they got up to. Severus felt freer than he had since his first year at Hogwarts.

Two nights before Iain's uncle was set to return home and Iain was to head back to Kent, he asked Severus to spend the night. Knowing his parents likely wouldn't even notice his absence, Severus agreed. Iain took him down to the shops to pick up "supplies" - snacks, a six pack of lager, and a pack of Iain's favorite smokes, along with a small bottle of olive oil. Severus looked at Iain questioningly and received only a knowing smirk in return.

They spent the early part of the night drinking the beers and talking about nonsense, mostly. Iain was not the best conversationalist, and trying to engage him in anything more advanced than football was a lost cause. Strangely, though, whenever Iain said something particularly dense, Severus's pulse would quicken. He couldn't explain it. He was already attracted to Iain, of course, but then he'd say something so completely ludicrous Severus would expect it to be a joke from anyone else and he'd get the urge to kiss him breathless.

Eventually, he did just that. And late that night, Iain showed him exactly why they'd bought that little bottle of olive oil.  
___

After Iain left, Severus was left to process everything that had happened in those few weeks. He knew that he'd likely never see the older boy again. They'd both begrudgingly acknowledged this had been little more than a summer fling a week ago, after Severus had practically sucked Iain's soul out through his cock. Knowing it was temporary didn't do much to detract from the sting of what was essentially a break-up, and losing his virginity right before that didn't help much, either.

But that was something unexpected, wasn't it? He'd lost his virginity, and it had been to a man. It was a lot to take in. His conversation with Lily from the previous summer came back to him - was he gay? But if so, then what had that business with Mary been all about? He'd genuinely liked her. He still had fantasies sometimes about her body, even though they'd ended on such bad terms and having barely even started. He'd be having a wank and the idea of getting between her thighs would come unbidden to mind, but fully welcomed. 

But so did Iain. Iain starred in more than a few of his fantasies as well, and he hadn't even hesitated when Iain had picked him up. So was he bisexual? 

But why Iain? Why Mary? His mind drifted back to Lily and he found that even though he still missed her, it didn’t hurt quite as much after his summer with Iain. But he wondered, still, why he hadn't felt an attraction to her but he had with her friend. And why was Iain the first bloke to get his attention? He was fit, sure, but there were other boys that were far more on his level intellectually and equally attractive. Hell, Regulus Black was only a bit younger, and he was both brilliant and objectively beautiful, and there were rumors about his…tastes. But Severus had never given him so much as a passing glance. Why these two?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape deals with Gilderoy Lockhart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took longer to get out than expected - I had a set outline for this entire story, but as I wrote a lot of things started to shift around and change and it's turning into something a lot more serious than I'd been aiming for. The crack is still coming - that chapter is written - but we're a little ways off from that yet.
> 
> Also, new warning because this chapter went in a different direction toward the end than I'd originally planned - I don't like Lockhart. I hate Lockhart, almost (but not quite) as much as I hate Umbridge. Reading CoS reminded me of all the older men that would hit on me as a teenager and try to be my "friend," and that feeling was 100% because of Lockhart.
> 
> So there's mentions toward the end of grooming. It isn't depicted directly. It's suggested, and because this still mostly aligns with canon (so far), it was obviously very unsuccessful. But for those who are sensitive to that, it's ok to skip this chapter. The next one is already being worked on and will be very different, and while I wrote this to develop and underscore what's happening to Snape's self-awareness, I'm pretty sure the rest of the story will make sense without reading this.

Over the course of the next few years, an alarming pattern emerged.

First, there was Avery. It was a wonder the boy had managed to get into any NEWT classes at all, but despite being able to communicate in little more than grunts he was a fierce duelist so Severus supposed it wasn't so impossible that he did make it into three. Snape caught him watching him on more than one occasion, and each time felt that fluttery feeling starting up in his stomach. If Mulciber weren't constantly around, Snape suspected something might have come of it. He wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disappointed that the opportunity never presented itself.

Then in seventh year there was that Hufflepuff girl a year behind him - Dara or Mara or something to that effect; he never did properly get her name. She had a fiery temper, which Snape was surprised to find appealing at all, and was rather well-spoken so she gave the illusion of intelligence. However, she was a total lost cause when it came time to actually use something that could pass for logical reasoning. He'd found it hilarious to banter with her, knowing it took almost no effort to trip her up. She clearly didn't enjoy it nearly as much and nearly hexed him when he asked her out one weekend. Still, he'd feel that light flutter whenever he'd get a chance to interact with her, and he wasn't exactly keen to stop.

Then he left Hogwarts and made one of the worst decisions of his life, changing its course forever, and the fluttering disappeared altogether for quite some time after that. It wasn't until he was well into his teaching career that he felt it again.

__

Snape only vaguely recalled Gilderoy Lockhart from his time as a student at Hogwarts. His first year teaching after Dumbledore recruited him as old Slughorn's assistant was thankfully limited only to lower years, and so he'd managed to avoid having to actually teach him at NEWT level. From what he did remember of the Ravenclaw, he'd been mildly annoying and arrogant but still bright enough to pull five NEWTs. Truthfully, if he'd never come face to face with him again, Snape would likely have forgotten him entirely.

Alas, fate had other plans in store.

Lockhart the adult made Snape want to hit things, preferably Lockhart himself. His pompousness made Potter - both of them, but particularly Sr. - look downright reserved in comparison. That he couldn't seem to stop making wild claims about his competency (which were obviously false) was particularly grating.

However, the first time Snape actually began to question his actual abilities was when he'd heard about the complete disaster Lockhart's very first second year period had been.

"He just…let the pixies loose in the classroom? One filled with twelve year olds? And then _left?_ " Snape gaped at Minerva, who'd just finished relaying the story of their new colleague's antics as they waited for their weekly staff meeting to begin.

"If it weren't for Granger, Potter, and Weasley, I daresay we'd have had a corridor full of them terrorizing students," Minerva fumed, making Snape's eye twitch. He wasn't sure if he was angrier that a staff member had left three second years to clean up his mess or that it was _those three_ thorns in his side in particular that were getting credit for it.

"This really can't stand," Filius piped up from Minerva's other side. "Leaving them locked alone in that room? They could have been severely injured."

"What is Albus _thinking?"_ Aurora added from across the table. "I know he's made questionable staffing choices in the past, but this…"

"We need to address this," Snape growled. "If one of my Slytherins comes to me with so much as -"

"Hello, everyone!" Lockhart interrupted, bursting through the staffroom door. "Wonderful day, isn't it?"

" _Is_ it?" Snape sneered.

"Certainly! The sun is shining almost as brightly as my smile!" Lockhart had the audacity to reply with a toothy grin. Snape wanted to punch him. Simply hexing him wouldn't be nearly satisfying enough.

"Gilderoy," Minerva began, "what precisely happened in your second year - "

"AH! Potter and Granger, they're quite good, aren't they?" Lockhart gushed, giving a nauseating wink at Minerva, who looked ready to murder him on the spot. "I can spot talent from a mile away, and those two exceeded my expectations for the test I set for them, wouldn't you say?"

"Three," Minerva ground out.

"Pardon?"

"There were _three_ students locked in that classroom, Gilderoy. Weasley was among them."

"Ah!" Lockhart clapped his hands, seemingly delighted. "Well, I had a bit less hope for him, but I was confident in his teamwork, so I'm not surprised that he managed to excel at - "

"Cleaning up your mess?" Aurora scoffed, and Lockhart faltered only a moment before flashing her a somehow even brighter smile.

"Proving his mettle," he replied sweetly. "Make no mistake, I do know how to spot talent. And that Potter boy - he's really something, wouldn't you say?" he added with a wink at Snape.

Nevermind hitting him. Snape was going to murder the bastard in cold blood.

Fortunately for everyone, but especially Lockhart's safety, Dumbledore chose that moment to arrive.

"Indeed, our Mr. Potter is something," the headmaster cheerfully agreed, and Snape would have been enraged if he didn't catch the calculating look behind Dumbledore's beatific smile. Instead, he quietly stewed while the meeting carried on.

"…Moreover, I was thinking that it might be useful to restart the Dueling Club," Dumbledore was saying, fully capturing Severus's attention. Working with Filius again on the Dueling Club would be a welcome change of pace from exploding cauldrons. "I thought perhaps the first meeting could be sometime in mid-December. Severus, talented as you are, I was wondering if you might assist our esteemed Professor Lockhart with this project."

 _"Lockhart?"_ Snape and Minerva exclaimed at the same time.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied jovially. "After all, he is our Defense professor, and my understanding is that Filius is unable to participate this year…?"

"Sorry," Filius added with an apologetic look in Snape's direction. "I was working with a young competitive duelist over the summer who looks promising for the finals, but I took a nasty curse to the hip. It will heal, but I'm not yet quick enough for all those students."

Snape glared at Dumbledore and was about to protest but shut his mouth when Albus speared him with a steely gaze of his own. They'd talk later, but it was clear his participation was not up for discussion.

Lockhart, oblivious as ever, chortled. "It's all right, Severus. I would have preferred to pair with Filius too, of course, but I'll go easy so you can keep up."

Snape shot another outraged glare at Dumbledore, who refused to meet his eyes. "I'm sure Severus will have no trouble at all with this, Gilderoy," he replied with a smile.

Snape scowled and sunk down lower in his seat. He didn't care if he looked like a sulking child. This was ridiculous.

__

"You cannot _seriously_ mean to entrust _that buffoon_ with safely teaching _literal children_ how to engage in one to one combat?" Snape raged later in Dumbledore's office.

"Now Severus, why do you think I've enlisted your help in this? Besides, it's only meant to be an introduction to formal dueling."

"And how quickly will that take a turn when someone like young Malfoy or Nott decides to take one of their favorite curses for a spin?" Snape demanded in response. "Do you imagine their families have been teaching them simple tickling hexes?"

"A tickling hex can be quite dangerous in the wrong circumstance," Dumbledore replied mildly, reaching for a sweet. He unwrapped the candy and popped it in his mouth before adding, "I do, however, take your point, which is why I will reiterate my purpose in choosing _you_ to assist and not Filius."

Snape stared at him for a moment. "I thought Filius said he was injured."

Dumbledore gave him one of his knowing half-smiles, the ones Snape knew were reserved for those he didn't feel a need to keep up appearances with. "And so he was, though he likely would have been willing to work around his injury if I'd asked him to lead the club. However, while I certainly _do_ want the students to learn something useful from this - a large part of your role in this, by the way - I wasn't about to chance Filius's condition to Gilderoy's…advanced talents."

Silence fell over the two of them, the only sound coming from the whirring instruments in the office and the hard candy moving behind Dumbledore's teeth.

"…You're setting him up," Snape said finally, crossing his arms in irritation. "And you're using me to do it."

"I wouldn't set up a professor, Severus," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully, looking at a book lying opened on his desk. "But I am not opposed to allowing a new colleague to show off his much lauded talents and prove he's as good as he says he is." His gaze turned to Snape. "For better or for worse."

Snape let an amused huff escape his lips, the tiniest smirk curling one side of his mouth upward. Well, if that was the game, he would play.

"I understand, Headmaster."

__

The problem in accepting, Snape realized quickly, was that it meant planning alongside the self-important oaf. Every other Friday evening found him tucked away in Lockhart's office, listening to the idiot go on and on about his supposed accomplishments and having his own expertise summarily dismissed. Lockhart had made it very clear from the outset he could not understand why a Potions master would be assisting with dueling, of all things, and was incapable of accepting that Snape might have any knowledge whatsoever of practical combat skills. He also made no secret what he thought of the fact that he wasn't aware of any of Snape's published Potions papers (there were numerous, though they were all in reputable journals, not whatever rags Lockhart had been selling his "discoveries" to) and that really, wasn't it fortunate that he had arrived to take Snape in hand?

It was only the knowledge of Dumbledore's plan to let the fool expose himself that kept Snape from cursing him on multiple occasions.

This carried on until early November, when Harry Bloody Potter, being the magnet for disaster that he was, somehow managed to be targeted by a hexed bludger. Thankfully the little shit, luck of the devil that he had, managed to escape with nothing more than a broken arm...or _he should have,_ but of _course_ Lockhart had stuck his nose in where it didn't belong and _vanished the boy's bones._

Snape should have been appalled by this. Potter or no, Lockhart had taken what should have been a relatively painless fix and turned it into something far worse through sheer incompetence. It was a form of cruelty that even Snape didn't have a taste for, and he begrudgingly _did_ feel a bit bad for the boy.

But it didn't stop that fluttering in his gut from asserting itself as he listened to Lockhart babble complete nonsense about how the boy himself must have been cursed and that's why his "healing spell" backfired. It didn't stop the unwelcome rush of blood to his nether regions as the overly-coiffed moron spent their entire next meeting insisting he should have examined the boy himself again after he'd gotten to the hospital wing, that only _he_ could have identified whatever "curse" was ailing him.

This was torment. He hated Lockhart. He _hated_ him. All he could think, in fact, as he angrily stroked himself off in his bedchambers the night after their most recent meeting, was that Lockhart didn't deserve to breathe the same air as anyone else and wouldn't it be _so nice_ to just _shut him up_ and how difficult would it be for him to talk if his throat were filled with Snape's -

His climax took his breath away. As he lay tangled in his sheets, he felt an overwhelming sense of disgust. He got up and stormed into the bathroom to shower and change into his nightclothes before sliding back into bed. _Never again,_ he promised himself.

But when his thoughts returned to Lockhart's stupidity as he lay awake from insomnia hours later, he couldn't stop the arousal from building in his belly. Rather than debasing himself further, he turned instead to Dreamless Sleep.

__

The first - and last - meeting of the Dueling Club was an unmitigated disaster. Lockhart was exactly as incompetent as Dumbledore had anticipated, and had Potter not scared the piss out of anyone with sense with his hissing, even Lockhart's most ardent student fans would have likely finally seen through him. The only good thing to come out of the debacle was that Potter's newly revealed talent thoroughly distracted Snape from Lockhart's foolishness too, keeping any unwelcome lust at bay.

The dissolution of the dueling club meant the end of his meetings with Lockhart as well, and so there was no longer any reason to subject himself to the man's presence outside of staff meetings. Sadly, there was little he could do to avoid those meetings, and so he had taken to brewing an anti-arousal potion the day before they were scheduled. It mostly worked, and he rarely even noticed the curve of Lockhart's surprisingly firm arse when the man insisted on sitting beside him _at every bloody one._

__

It was late May and Snape sat in the staffroom before breakfast, hoping to catch Minerva for her morning tea. He'd decided to pass the time until she was due to arrive modifying the second year written portion of his Potions exams to make them just a _bit_ more advanced.

 _Let's see Granger get Potter through this one,_ he thought to himself with no small amount of spiteful glee as he "accidentally" slipped in a question he knew would be on this year's OWLs. The door opened and he looked up, ready to greet Minerva, when instead…

"Ah, Severus, just the man!" Lockhart barged in, unceremoniously claiming one of the armchairs nearest Snape.

Snape growled. "What is it now?"

Lockhart flashed him a blinding smile that absolutely did _not_ cause a flash of heat to rise in his nether regions. Snape crossed his legs and irritably wrapped his robe around himself. It was too fucking early in the morning for this. "I just woke up thinking - the way the students look at you. The way they respect you because you're in a position of authority. Isn't it spectacular?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Lockhart chuckled at that. "Come now, man," he replied. "Certainly, you're not likely to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award or anything, but you are rather…imposing. That must garner you _some_ attention?"

Something about the tone of Lockhart's voice unsettled Snape. He remained silent and merely quirked an eyebrow, quietly praying to gods he didn't even believe in that Minerva would hurry along and interrupt.

"No…?" Lockhart feigned surprise, pulling a flask out from a pocket inside his robe. He opened it and the smell of strong firewhiskey wafted out. "Care for a drink?"

"Thank you, I'll pass."

Lockhart shrugged and took a swig directly from the mouth of the bottle. "Well, I for one am grateful for it. Molding young minds. Teaching them the way of the world. Leaving an…impression." His gaze became glassy, as though looking at something far off in the distance. "Young Potter, in particular. He'll be a treat in a few years."

A chill went up Snape's spine, and any hint of attraction he'd once had toward the man was instantaneously dispelled. _"Excuse me?"_ he asked icily. Lockhart paid his tone no mind and carried on.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Not even into his teen years and he's already made a name for himself. Given a bit more time, he's sure to acquire all sorts of influence." He took another mouthful from the flask. "A student like that is good to keep in your back pocket. Get him on the right path now, keep him close, and that relationship will pay dividends later on. He's far too young now, of course, but once he's graduated…"

Snape stared at him in horror. "If I'm not mistaken, _Gilderoy,_ you sound as though you're attempting to groom Mr. Potter."

Lockhart chuckled, looking at Snape as though he were a naïve child. "Now now, don't make it sound more insidious than it is, man. I'm not talking about anything like _that,_ merely…building a friendship. He's not a _witch,_ after all." Another swig, and Snape could have sworn he heard him mutter, "though with visibility like that it might be worth switching teams."

Severus Snape had borne witness to some of the most horrific acts imaginable. He'd participated in torture. He'd gotten his best friend killed. It took a lot to stun him.

He sat there, staring at Lockhart, unable to move. He should curse him. He should immediately notify the Board of Governors. He should…

The staffroom door opened and Lockhart hastily stashed his flask as Minerva walked in. "Ah, it's nearly time for breakfast!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "And here I still have to prepare for my first class. Severus, Minerva, if you'll excuse me." And he hurried out the door.

Minerva watched him leave in confusion, then looked back at Snape and her expression shifted to concern. "Severus? You're rather pale - is everything all right?"

"No," Snape growled, glaring at the door. "It isn't."

___

With Dumbledore still away, there was little that could actually be done about Lockhart in the moment. Minerva promised that she'd do what she could to handle it, but they'd need to get through the day's classes first. Snape was grateful that, despite the fact he knew she didn't fully trust him, she seemed to believe his account without question in this case.

However, those efforts proved unnecessary when - surprise, surprise - Potter and Weasley managed to bumble their way into handling it themselves. Unfortunately, with Lockhart's memory erased, it was nearly impossible to deal with his revelation to Snape.

"Well, at least he's out of everyone's hair now," Minerva tried to placate him later, after he'd ranted about the injustice of it all. "St. Mungo's will have a time of it repairing the damage from that botched memory charm, and I sincerely doubt Albus or the Board of Governors would allow him near students again at any rate just from the sheer incompetence he displayed."

She was right, of course - from a practical perspective, the problem had been solved. The victory, however, still felt hollow.

That night, as he lay in his bed, he was thankful that thoughts of Lockhart no longer brought on any physical desire. It did leave him once again wondering about his apparent choices in partners. They were all so ridiculous in their own ways. Lockhart was probably the most clever among them, but he'd demonstrated his own brand of idiocy that easily outpaced the rest. Snape certainly held him in a far lower regard than any of the others that had caught his interest, and that was _before_ he revealed he had his eye on Potter. He shuddered thinking about it. A twelve year old. A _twelve_ year old. _Lily's son._

Perhaps there was something he could take, or a curse of some sort he could use on himself, that would stop him from developing these feelings at all moving forward. It was abundantly clear now that he could not trust his own judgment or libido. Better to rid himself of it altogether.


End file.
